


Sans Goes Bloody Insane

by TurkeyEgss



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Body Horror, Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, Humor, Post-undertale neutral route- Annoying Dog Ending, Psychological Horror, Undertale Neutral Route, sans vs god er dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:30:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurkeyEgss/pseuds/TurkeyEgss
Summary: No. That wasn't correct. He was the sane one, and everybody else had fallen into some sort of grief-driven psychosis. He wasn't mad.King Asgore died. He saw it from the corner of his eye-sockets, he heard the choked bleats of his dying scream, and he knew this story always ended the same way. So why was everybody telling him that King Asgore was alive? Worse still, how was King Asgore milling about his subjects like nothing is wrong? Things only get more questionable when the captain of the Royal Guard returns from the dead, finally driving him into action. Something was wrong in this timeline, and it wasn't just the kid.Whatever the heck was going on, Sans knew that the dog had something to do with it.





	1. A Ruff Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from ArgentDandelion on Tumblr. 
> 
> Heheheh. The journey begins where the egg cracks! A bit of course language ahead, be warned.

One year, three months, and two days since the kid left.

His life was a fucking joke to them, wasn't it?

He could feel it in his bones (heh), he could feel somebody watching him. It couldn't be the flower, he found it's petals torn out after the kid trudged out of the underground draped in dust and grime. It had to be the anomaly. It was watching him, and it was laughing. To see how he'd break under these absurd circumstances, to watch him slowly fall down.

_Welp._ Sans thought, opening up a bottle of ketchup._ Guess you'll have to wait a few more months for that._

All things considered, life wasn't bad underground right now. Actually, thing were going suspiciously good. Despite the throne currently being occupied by a certain white dog, all of the laws of the underground were being upheld to their utmost, and hope had not dwindled even slightly. It was like they didn't even notice that Asgore was gone, that Undyne had disappeared, that the Queen had perished alone, that Alphys offed herself, or that their most famous celebrity was a smoldering pile of debris.

<strike>Like they had forgotten about his brother entirely.</strike>

Sans clenched his grin as hard as he could, hard enough to draw blood if he had any lips, before realizing that he had squeezed the ketchup bottle too hard and had gotten it all over his sleeve. Geez, was that how bitter he was getting? To live solely off of spite? It was no proper way to live, and Sans knew that if his brother was still around, he'd be getting lectured on that fact right now.

Letting out a sigh, Sans stumbled over to the counter, getting out a roll of paper towel and tearing off a chunk. Dabbing the still-dry paper on his hoodie's sleeve, he managed to scrape off a decent portion of the ketchup, and against his better judgement, he stuck his face against the cloth, slurping up the ketchup. What remained of the ketchup on his jacket would no doubt leave a stain, but Sans didn't mind. One more stain on his already dingy jacket wasn't that big a deal.

He had started to make his way back to the couch when he noticed a goofy red ketchup smear across his grin reflected on the empty TV screen. It looked almost like he had a mustache, a thought that made his jaw tug up, if only for a second. He would've left it that way, if a strange feeling hadn't suddenly washed over him. Something about today felt important, like he might actually manage the courage to go to Grillby's or perhaps even just sit on the patio for a little bit. And he surely wouldn't want to have a ketchup mustache then, just in case somebody happened to wander by.

<strike>The last thing he needed was the sound of children's laughter.</strike>

Spinning on his foot back to the kitchen to grab another cloth, Sans' train of thought was interrupted by a tap at the door. It was brief and light, but carried a familiar ring to it. A gentle sort of resonating sound that carried the precision of somebody who tended to flowers. Sans' right hand twitched inside his hoodie. Quickly using his left sleeve to wipe off the mustache, Sans crept up to the door, his mitten firmly wrapping around the knob, before creaking the door open only an inch. An inch was all he needed to see, but when he saw, he slammed the door as fast as he could.

It was Asgore.

No, it was a trick. It had to be. King Asgore died. He saw it from the corner of his eye-sockets, he heard the choked bleats of his dying scream, and he knew this story always ended the same way. There was no reset, everybody was still gone, this situation was an impossibility. Yet the tap came again, this time slightly more urgent- or concerned?

"Sans." The thing had his voice down to a pat too. Kingly, regal, yet at the same time, carrying a somber undercurrent of tragedy. 

"you aren't asgore." Sans sucked in whatever the skeletal approximation of a breath was, turning his back to the door and leaning against it. 

"Sans, I know I have been very unprofessional as of late..." The king paused, "leaving my kingdom to search for the souls-"

"bullshit. you died." If this was the anomaly's idea of entertainment, it had to try harder.

"I assure you, I am very much alive, and I know what has happened." Asgore sounded as if he shifted positions. "About the disappearance of your brother in the Snowdin forest."

Sans clutched at the edges of his hoodie, reaching to pull it over his head. He didn't want to hear any more of this, but some morbid curiosity kept him from walking away entirely. What was this Asgore impersonator talking about? Even if the other villagers seemed to have forgotten about his brother, they at least seemed to recognize the musty smell of dust that haunted the passage between Waterfall and Snowdin since the child came by. This thing had to be tugging his leg-bone.

"if you're trying to make me go somewhere, i'll let you know i'll be staying home."

"I do not expect you to take up the burden yourself, Sans. I know this situation is very harsh on all of us, but I must make sure my subjects are all safe and accounted for before I take up the throne again."

Sans paused, his grin widening a bit. Perhaps he could have some fun with the anomaly.

"you do know your throne is currently occupied by a dog, right? are you planning on committing some **mutt-iny**, because i am relatively certain that is a crime."

"Of course not. It was always a temporary arrangement, don't you remember?" Asgore's voice carried a bemused tone to it, seeming to recognize the pun and perhaps even enjoy it somewhat. Heh. Been a while since anybody heard a pun from him, and even if it wasn't the lady, hearing somebody's spirits be lifted by a bad pun made Sans feel just a bit more at ease. Of course, that was what the anomaly would want, wasn't it?

"nope." Sans honestly didn't know much in the ways of dog politics, but he did trust his own memory well enough to know that Asgore is dead.

"It's fine, Sans. You just focus on getting better, alright? I'm sure we'll find your brother soon enough." The voice grew more distant, drawing away. Sans was sure that if he could see Asgore's head, it would be bowing slightly. 

Then, there was a brief period of silence. For a moment, Sans contemplated if this wasn't some sort of hallucinatory entity or anomalous trick, and he was the one who had mistaken one of his timeline dreams for real life, that this was him waking up, but he dismissed that in an instant when he thought of his brother's dust floating in the mist, inhaled with every breath. That feeling was undeniably real, and this Asgore, as much as Sans wanted to believe otherwise, simply wasn't. There was simply no way.

"Please, feel free to come to the garden if you have something you want to get off your back. Be seeing you, Sans."

Sans didn't bother responding to Asgore as he left. He was simply too disorientated. Was it possible that they had gotten so far off the proper timeline's course that the timeline itself was already beginning to break down, even without the anomaly? Sans didn't want to acknowledge that possibility, especially given how nervous he was already. It was strange, very few things rattled him to the bones, but hearing such a friendly voice, such a familiar voice, had already put him on edge. 

Trying regain his composure, Sans returned to the couch and pondered. If this "Asgore" was some sort of hallucination, than surely the other villagers wouldn't recognize him, or at least would see how bizarre this event looked as well? He knew that they wouldn't understand anything about the timelines, but he was relatively certain the news of Asgore's death traveled like wildfire across the underground. Pulling himself up from the couch, he made his way to grab his journal from the machine room.

One way or another, he was getting to the bottom of this.


	2. Return of The King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These familiar faces speak such horrid realities.

He flipped through the journal, trying to recall any similar entries, but finding nothing of the sort. Asgore had nearly always died, and never had he died and come back, according to his reports. This was unprecedented, and not even the flower or the kid had managed to ever do something like this. Looks it was time for an investigation.

He managed a grimace on his face, going to change his filthy hoodie into something slightly approachable. Even though he usually wasn't the one for appearances, he wanted to talk to the townsfolk about Asgore without everybody pointing out how much of a wreck he looked (and acted) like. It had been so long since he mustered the will to do any scientific work aside from occasionally checking up on the machine, so in an odd way, simply putting the thought of doing an analytical investigation into his head gave him a sense of nostalgia. At that made his smile more genuine, though non-skeletons rarely noticed the difference anyways. 

With a near-identical but slightly cleaner hoodie on, Sans sauntered up to the door, opening the door only a sliver at first. Even though the Underground was quite dim, the reflected light from the cavern ceiling made his eyes sting for a second. As the spots cleared, it soon became apparent that whoever this Asgore was, he was long gone, leaving only thick paw-prints in the snow. Good, he was safe. Or at least for now.

Sans stepped off the patio, his legs sinking knee-deep into the snow. It was usually Papyrus who shoveled the snow in front of the house, Sans remarked in his head. Shoving off the thought, he cast a glance right and then left, looking towards the hill that led to the passage towards Waterfall when he saw a shape in the distance. Two long ears and a brimmed hat gave away that this silhouette belonged to the Snowdin shopkeeper, one of her arms holding a bag of groceries. Her ears perked up as she made her way down the hill in the skeleton's direction, picking up the pace slightly. 

"heya." Sans swiveled his skull to look up at the shopkeeper. She looked no different than usual, save for the snow caught in her fur. 

"Sans! It's been such a long time." She paused for a second. "How are you holding up?"

"i've been better." He didn't really like giving folks around town too much of a cue, but after staying in his house for several weeks straight, it was no use pretending things weren't complicated, to say the least.

"Oh." A bucktoothed frown appeared on her face. "Well, there's no need to worry. I'm sure they'll find him soon. It's only a matter of time."

The rest of the townsfolk thought Papyrus was missing as well? It was awfully dissonant with what he experienced the last time he went outside, where everybody seemed to realize somebody had died, even if they couldn't put a name to the dust. Sans felt a distant itch at the back of his skull, trying to put the pieces together. So, if they believed the same story as Asgore then-

"didja hear about the king?" Going ambiguous was a good way to start.

"Hear about him?" The shopkeeper put a paw on her cheek. "He was walking through town earlier today. Asgore's looking to take the throne up again by the looks of it."

"mmhm." Sans nodded. So, everybody saw Asgore, and from the looks of it, believed his story. This as seemed too surreal, the itch growing larger. Whoever did this must have an extraordinary influence or power on their side. Powers to bring back specific people, or influence people's minds to a significant degree. This was beyond even the anomaly's power, as strange as it sounded to say, as it's power was never so specifically targeted. Who could this being be? His train of thought kept racing, but was thankfully interrupted before he could feel his magic rushing into his phalanges.

"Actually, that reminds me..." The shopkeeper chirped. "I heard that Undyne is returning from the search mission and is going to meet with Asgore tomorrow. They might have news on your brother, or perhaps the other missing folk."

"a search mission..." Sans remembered walking by a white-tinged puddle in Waterfall and smiled. It was almost humorous in a sense, created by the contradiction of expectation and reality. Silently, he applauded this being, both for its power and its gall. "took long enough."

"Well, don't get too worked up. The Underground might not be that big, but its got lots of crevices." The Shopkeeper cast a look aside. "If you're feeling upset or hurt, maybe you should come down to my shop. The people around here miss you dearly."

"i'll consider it later." Sans rolled his shoulders inside his hoodie. 

"Oh, alright." Her voice grew a bit quieter, and she leaned down to get closer to his level. "You know it's fine to not be fine, right? I know I'm not really your friend but I can tell you aren't feeling well. If you need somebody to talk to, my ears will always be open."

"it's fine, really. why don't you set aside one of the cinnamon buns in your next batch for me and i'll come pick up later?" Sans whispered. Her smile warmed.

"Alright, Sans." The shopkeeper straightened back out, contented (if only slightly) by his response, though her ears were not fully perked. 

"good day." Sans waved his hand, and as he did, caught sight of more people in the distance. They were talking. Was it about the king? The wind was getting louder with voices. He had to get back home.

Sans clutched his head. It hurt, but more than that, it itched. It itched and burned and stung like it was full of grains of sand. Everything about this felt so wrong, no matter how good it was. Dead people just don't come back to life on their own. The shopkeeper was watching him with a concerned expression as he stumbled back to the house, but he dared not tell her what he was really thinking, lest she think him insane. After all, according to her, <strike>Papyrus,</strike> Undyne and Asgore were alive, and saying otherwise would make him look like the strange one, given how Asgore was clearly out and about earlier.

Right as he reached the patio again, shorts soaking with snow, he spotted something unusual that he hadn't noticed before on the first step leading up to his house. A tuft of white fur. It looked to be Asgore's fur, though damp and pale. Picking it up, Sans took a deep sniff, and even though his skeletal sense of smell was quite poor, what he smelled made him reel imminently.

Smelled like dog. 


End file.
